Paint It Black
by BellaVista88
Summary: "Some people believe in fate. I don't. I know why I am going to die." Would you do what Love asked of you, even if it hurt? He does what she asks; they both have to deal with the devastating consequences? Adults scenes and language. Two part story.
1. Chapter 1

**Paint it Black.**

**Chapter 1**

Every person has a time to die, whether it be purposeful, self-inflicted or an accident. Everyone has to go.

Today was my day.

Some people believe in fate. I don't. I know why I'm dying.

I'm not what people would call a 'good guy'. Only one person had ever called me good, and she was dead.

I don't live by any set rules. I don't follow instructions. I don't take anything lightly.

There was blood on my hands, on my shirt, on my jeans. Tiny dark red splatters stuck to my hair, making the blond dark. My eyes were wide, my pupils dilated. My hands were shaking, leaving dark red smears wherever they landed. I was buzzed.

I rapped on the red door. My movements were erratic, too fast. Obvious.

I needed her. I always needed her. She made it alright. She made me alright.

"Edward?" The red door inched open. On the catch. I caught a glimpse of her, I smelt her. I breathed in deeply, shoving my face in the small gap she allowed.

"Oh, my god! Edward! What happened?"

The door slammed in my face, only to be opened again.

I tumbled over the threshold and fell onto her, backing her into the wall. Wrapping myself around her; breathing her in, living in her. Living for her.

With my hands in her hair, my lips insistently met hers. Teeth clashed, tongues fought, lips crushed. I pulled her to me. She pushed me away.

"Edward, no, wait! Are you... who?"

I stepped away from her, turning away. "Not mine." Heavy breaths lifted my chest. My hands didn't know what to do; they pushed in my pockets, ran through my hair, wiped at the red on my arms.

Small hands pressed to my back, ran over my shoulders and pulled at my hair. "What did you do?"

The tremor in her voice thrilled and terrified me. Knocking her hands from my body, I spun around growling out a laugh.

What did I do?

Dark laughter bubbled up from my chest and infected the room, turning it black. Tainting her, ruining her.

"My job," The cool indifference in my voice made hot chocolate pools freeze. "I did my fucking job."

"You said ..."

I slammed her back into the wall, knocking the air from her lungs. "I lie." With her hands pinned to the wall and her heart hammering away before me, she stuck her chin out defiantly. I lowered my nose to her neck and ran it along her jugular, breathing deeply the perfume of her skin.

She whimpered.

I pulled at her ear, my teeth pressing down. "Don't trust me."

My teeth moved across her chin, nipping, biting, scratching. "I kill."

"You won't." She struggled to free herself from my hands. My lips pulled up into a black smirk against her skin.

"I'm a killer." I bit at her lips. "I've killed today."

She turned her head away, hiding from this part of me. She didn't like the black. She didn't like the red I was smudging on her. She shouldn't have to.

I shook my head, caught her eyes and kept them.

"I won't kill you." My lips met hers, softer this time. Gentle. Love. I wanted to show her what she could have, what she should have. What I wanted to give to her.

My lips plucked at hers, playing them softly. I released her wrists and moved my hands to her hips, my fingers showing her how I could love. Running over her skin, through her hair. I tangled them there. Anchoring her to me.

Her hands found my hips and pulled me to her. My kiss sped up. I pressed harder: teeth bit, tongues teased. My hand pulled her hair back, exposing her neck. I kissed and bit and licked and sucked. I showed her what we could be.

Hot fingers confidently pulled at my belt, flicked open the buttons of my fly. Showing me what she could be. I pulled her summer dress over her head and tossed it away. I ripped my way through her panties, impatient. Wanting my release. With my tongue still in her mouth I ran two fingers over her lips, gathering the moisture, spreading it, wanting it. Without warning I slammed my fingers into her, pumping her fast and hard. Loving her noises. Loving the darkness of her eyes. The clenching of her teeth.

I span her around, pushed her over the back of the white couch. Smiling at her; bare, wet and ready for me. My jeans were still around my hips when I thrust into her, my belt slapping against the side of her ass. I pressed down on her shoulders and pulled her head back. Stretching her. Hurting her. She couldn't move. She was my captive. I kept moving, showing her my pain and pleasure. Showing her my black. I smiled at her moans and grunts. She tried to push back into me, but I held her in place.

"Please. Edward, please," she begged in frustration.

With a dark laugh I released her, moving my hands to her hips. I steadied her while I fucked her. I showed her love while I craved black. I loved them both.

"I won't kill you," I repeated as I thrust into her. "I will not kill you." She moaned around me. Arching her back, her head moving back to rest on my shoulder. I pinched and rolled her nipples with one hand, the other moving to her clit, pressing down, pinching, rubbing. I bit and scraped my way to her ear.

"I won't kill you. You'll kill me."

Her body clenched around my cock and her mouth opened in a noiseless scream before she could react to my words.

I pushed her chest back over the couch and with one hand on the middle of her back I continued to fuck her. All thoughts of gentle and caring gone. She'd had hers. This was mine. The legs of the couch slipped across the hardwood floor. I slapped her ass. I pushed harder and faster. Deeper. Her moans and gasps fed me; spurred me on. I grabbed her hair and twisted it around my fist, pulling her head up, stretching her neck. Her sounds were louder this way.

I growled as I spilled my load inside her.

I fell forward onto her, pressing my lips behind her ear. Feeling her heated skin against mine. Her hands wound around and tangled into my hair, pulling at the knots, smoothing down the tufts.

She rolled over the side of the couch and pulled me with her. I fell into her embrace, loosing myself in warmth and safety. Her fingers pulled through my hair. Her lips pressed love into my skin.

"Tell me, baby," Her voice was soft, coaxing. Leaking love.

"You don't want to know." I shook my head. She couldn't hear these things, I wouldn't make her.

"I do. Edward, you need to talk about this."

"No. I don't. I don't need to talk about it, I don't want to and you don't want to hear it."

She huffed and pushed me off of her. I zipped my jeans and leant back on her sofa.

"Do you?" I laughed at her hurt expression. "Do you want to know how I killed him? How I stabbed him and cut him and made him beg? That I know exactly how much blood a body can lose before it gives out?" Tears welled in her eyes, I kept on. Black spilling out; taking over. "That I know the best ways to cut, how to make the pain so bad you can't scream even though you're begging for that release. Is that what you want to hear?"

She crawled over onto my lap. Her naked breasts pressed into my chest. "I'm sorry, no. No, I just want to help." Her fingers ran over my face. Brushing away the black. "I want to make it better."

"You can't."

"Let me?" Her lips covered my face. Taking my stress and pain and covering it with love and contentment. "You said you were finished. That you'd stopped?"

"I tried."

"Why?" Her lips worked against my skin. "Why can't you stop?"

I turned my head away from her. I lifted her off of me and stood. My face in my hands.

She followed me. Small arms wrapped around me, her warm cheek pressed between my shoulders, her hands on my chest. My heart. She surrounded me; holding the black inside.

"Tell me." Her voice was insistent. "Why can't you stop, Edward?" Hot tears moulded her pain to me; added it to the black.

"You said you'd stop for me." Strength filled her small voice.

"For you?!" I spun around, knocking her from me. "You!" I walked towards her, backing her back towards the wall. "This is all fucking for you!" I wiped at the red on my arms.

"Edward, stop!" Her deep brown eyes were frozen with fear.

I stepped closer, bearing down over her, my forehead pressed tightly to hers. My voice slow and deep.

"It's done. I did it."

Her eyes frown into mine. She doesn't understand. Doesn't get it. She doesn't know what this means.

"I'm out."

A smile threatens to break through her frown. Darkness leaks out and chases it away.

"I killed Demitri."

Dark eyes widen.

"No! Edward, why?" Her hands smooth over my face, my neck, my shoulders.

"For you."

She understands the gravity. She sinks back, her eyes darkening. I see my darkness there. She shakes her head; she won't lose it that way.

"They'll be coming after me." My voice is calm. I've lost the black, for now. I am resigned. She killed me; Love killed me. "I had to tell you." She shakes her head, still unwillingly. "I have to go." I step back, my hands lingering on her shoulders, my eyes on hers.

"No!" She comes to life. The hint of darkness in her eyes burned away by passionate fire. "Let me come with you! We'll go together."

Now, I shake my head. "This isn't your life."

"Isn't my life?!" Her laughter is harsh; out of place. It isn't hers; it's mine. "Look." She thrusts her arm in front of me. My unwilling eyes focus on the red there. "I am in this with you. You did this for me." Proudly she pulls herself to her full height, "They will not win now."

"Angel," My voice is soft as I pull her to me. Her passion placating the darkness, letting us be. My lips press to her skin, my tongue tasting her. "No."

I step back, breaking contact. My hands shove in my pockets. My eyes hard and emotionless. Black.

"Edward..."

Our eyes fly to the door. A loud knocking silenced the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Her mouth closes, her eyes finding mine again as she pulls the thin dress back over her body. Frantic fingers wipe at the red on her arms.

I shake my head, warning her fragile, shaking figure from the door.

"Edward." I know that voice. It's time.

"We know you're in there."

Black and Love mix in my heart, creating a mantra. Hoping for a plan. "Not here. Not her."

My reluctant eyes fall on Bella. Her black tainted body cowered against the wall; small fists gripping the light fabric of her summer dress. Her eyes wide and scared, looking from me to the voice.

With red stained fingers and hard black eyes, I reach for her wrist, dragging her from the door. Taking her away.

"We know you have her with you." My gait stutters hearing the sneer in his voice. My black blood freezes in my tainted veins.

Not her.

Throwing Bella against the cold tile of the bathroom, I slam the door. Shutting us away. Hoping to prevent the inevitable. Hide her away. Keep her safe from me. Them. Us.

Ignoring, and turning my back, on small pants and terrified whimpers, I tear through the cupboard. Smudges of deep red soil the clean towels piling at my feet, I kick them aside. Crouching down beside the trembling form of the only person I'd die for. The girl who was going to kill me.

Squeezing delicate fingers around the gun, I whisper instructions, "Aim, shoot, don't look back." And, "Kill them before they get you, Bella. Do it." She answers in shaking breaths, her hands unsteadily aiming the gun at the bathroom door. "Lock it. Don't move until I tell you to."

"Stay with me. Edward, we can do this together." Her hands press to my chest; small islands of white in the black. I shake my head.

"Edward, please," Her voice shakes and pleads. "They can't hurt us if we're together."

I laugh. Cold and harsh. My hands pull hers away. Black overtaking once more.

"They can only hurt me when I'm with you, Bella!" My voice is hard and unrelenting. "If it wasn't for you, they wouldn't be here."

Whimpering, her eyes lower from mine. "I'm sorry," the ruined material of her dress rides up over her knees.

"Don't be." Dropping back down besides, I take her face in my dirty hands. "You brought me to life." Love battled the black in my heart. "I'd do it for you over and over."

The fire was back in her eyes. My lips pressed firmly to hers, taking in her goodness, bathing momentarily in her light.

"Use the gun, Bella." Dark eyes fill with tears.

Ignoring her protesting cries, I stride from the room. Closing and locking the door behind me. Shutting out the black.

I always considered myself to be at peace with Death. I knew Death; the smell, the look, the feeling. I had taken lives without thought. I'd seen the light leave eyes, heard the last gargling breath of a dying man, and witnessed the desperately pleading eyes. Death and I were close. Intimate.

But he couldn't have her. He'd have to take me first.

My pace is steady. My mind set.

Without a sound, I ease the back door open and with my back to the wall, creep around the corner of the building.

Four men.

Only four. I fight the urge to laugh, my teeth clench, my fingers tightening around soothing metal.

Four men to kill me? This would be easier than I thought.

Maybe Death and I would be on the same team once again. My smile was cruel.

Stepping out from the corner, my aim is steady. My stance solid, my eyes frozen blue. Exhaling slowly, my finger squeezes the trigger, enjoying the momentary familiarity of the pressure. My heart leaps with the explosion. My eyes brighten as the bullet hits its mark. My lips curl into a brutal grin as he falls to the floor, swallowed by my black cloud.

Every eye turns to me. My heart soars, my mind clears.

This, I know.

The fight, the adrenaline, the death and the black.

I own this. It is mine.

My shoulder darts back. The burning pain adds to my fight.

My fingers squeeze again. A second man falls to my black.

Laughter escapes. Black surrounds.

Without looking back, I run. Focusing on the inhale and exhale. The pounding of my feet on the concrete. The screaming bullets skimming passed me. The familiar comforting feel of my salvation concealed beneath my jacket. The adrenaline of steps following me.

My hands brace against the rough stone wall, my head dropping forward, my chest heaving. Breathing black, polluting the air. My ears strain for any hint of a sound. With slow, deliberate fingers, I click open the barrel of the gun, snapping it back into place before I peer around the corner.

Nothing but silence and black.

With my back to the wall, I wait.

It won't take long. They'll be here.

Then I'll kill every one of them.

For her.

I'll surrender to the black, but it will be for Love.

Time inched by and I grew restless.

Something was wrong. They should be here by now.

They should be lying cold, covered in their red and my black.

It should be over.

I should be back with her, escaping the city. Starting again.

My mind rejecting the thoughts I was conjuring, I took off. The images running through my veins cooled my blood. Pushing me faster: pumping my muscles, pummelling my feet against the concrete.

I couldn't admit that they'd done what I would have.

I couldn't picture them with her.

I couldn't see her red spilling out onto the floor. Turning black.

I couldn't have left her alone.

Barely halting at the sight of her splintered and cracked door, I barrel through the apartment. My eyes hard, my breathing shallow.

Everything was tainted. Blackened by somebody else.

The sofa was on its side, the television smashed. Her life thrown carelessly across the room: a torrent of papers, books, magazines and pictures.

With each deliberate step, my feet crunch on broken glass.

With each deliberate breath, my body suffocates in black.

With each deliberate sweep of my eyes, my mind repels the truth.

Rasping her name, numb hands ease open the bathroom door.

"Bella," My breath leaves in a stuttered cry, exhaling Love and tar-black pain. Dropping slowly to my knees beside her, my teeth clenched, sharp pain rocks through every fibre of my being.

Unfeeling metal clangs to the floor. Shaking fingers reach out, tracing the bow of her lips, wiping a line of sticky red from the corner of my Angel's mouth. Unwilling fingers stroke the length of her throat, feeling in vain for the jump of her pulse. For hope. For Love. The palm of my hand pushes against the cause: a black hole in the centre of her chest. Strips of her raggedly ripped dress stick to the wound; Love still trying to cover the black.

Falling forward, my forehead lands against her collar, my hands unable to leave her. Every molecule of my body ached, pulled tight with the sudden absence. She was gone.

I had killed her.

Black unfurled angrily in my heart, suffocating Love. Stealing it and throwing it away. Until there was nothing.

Until I was nothing.

My fingers fist in the thin, stained fabric of her dress. My eyes squeezed shut, blocking out images of her. Morphing her body into his. Theirs. Whoever did this. It didn't matter. They would all die now.

Blindly reaching for my salvation and pushing to unsteady feet, I turn without looking. My jaw set as I stride from the room. Desperate thoughts and black plans forcing everything from my mind.

Death close on my heels. We were ready. We'd end it for Love. And then I could join her.

AN: I wrote this in, mostly, a present tense to try and show a form of urgency; the way Edward thinks and feels. And to try and portray the drama of the situation. Did it work? Please let me know what you think.


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